


Voltron Crew AU that no one asked for!

by GhostThea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chaos, Coach Allura, Coach Coran, Coxswian pidge, Crew AU that no one asked for, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith is stroke, Lance is dramatic, Minor Injuries, Pidge is loud, Pidge | Katie Holt is So Done, Rowing, Sort Of, banter ensues, lotor is a jerk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostThea/pseuds/GhostThea
Summary: A collcetion of little one-shots featuring our favorite paladins as rowers!Mostly because I miss crew D:We've got a little angst, a lot of banter, even more chaotic paladins and a race against the galara! With less death!Basically no one asked for this and it's entirely self-indulgent, ideas and inspritation came from my personal experince as a rower and coxswian I hope you enjoy <3
Kudos: 2





	1. A New Lineup

**Author's Note:**

> Your favorite 5 foot author here, this is a PSA that Keith's wrist issues are a real thing that happened to me, and if you're a rower who is expeincing something similar, tell your coaches! It often stems from feathing the blade incorrectly and causes awful muscle spasms which pinch the nerves in the wrist and can lead to serious nerve damage so don't be tough and brush it off, go seek help from a coach or medical professional! 
> 
> If you have any questions about my time as a rower/coxswian, have a prompt/fic suggestion (PG please my dudes), or just want to chat, comment or send me a message I love hearing from all of you ^_^
> 
> Stay warm this winter and enjoy the fic! 
> 
> Also it has now occured to me, some of you guys might have no idea what rowing or crew is, see the end of chapter notes for some helpful terminogly 
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------------------  
> A new lineup always takes some getting used to, chaos ensues
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Let's get hands on the Castle!” 

“Up to high waist.. ready? Up!"

“And roll up and over heads, ready? Up!” 

“And down to shoulders... awesome.” 

Pidge scurries down the boat and kicks the slings away before reaching up to grab hold of the stern. “Jeez you guys are tall.” Huffing a breath of annoyance at Shiro's muted chuckle, she reaches up to place a hand on the front of the boat, her fingers barely brush the hull. Pidge guides the shell down the hill towards the dock, cox box bumping against her leg. 

“I still can’t believe i'm your pair mullet.” Lance groans as he reaches over to undo the oar locks. 

Keith only grunts in response and hands him an oar. “Hey, do you think anyone would care if we just switched? I mean, I've got longer legs anyway. I would Definitely be a better eight seat than you. I’ve got a longer stroke, you know, scientifically speaking. ” 

Keith huffs, busying himself with closing his oarlock so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the roaring part of him that agrees with Lance. “You as stroke would be a disaster, and leave the science to Pidge.” He bites back a little too sharply. Lance reels back dramatically, causing the boat to shift, Keith nearly goes over the gunnels. Pidge chuckles from where she is plugging in her cox box. 

“Excuse you! I am a wonderful stroke, it's an injustice Allura and Coran never let me.” Lance whines, looking offended. Hunk returns with two oars and hands one off to Shiro before thumping Lance on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward. “One of you is going to end up in the lake today.” Pidge snorts through the headset, voice lifting over the speakers. 

“Lance, do you remember that one time we were stroke pair? I think you cried because Nyma yelled at you.” Hunk asks, a teasing grin crawling across his face. Lance pales visably and Keith snorts, gratefully accepting his water bottle from Pidge. 

“Can you hear me back there Shiro?” Pidge asks, fiddling with the cord. He offers a thumbs up and Pidge looks relieved. “Ah I love boats with working speakers.” 

Lance, broken from his stupor, jumps to defend himself, balancing with one foot flat on the floor of the boat, his oar abandoned in it’s lock. “It’s not my fault the set was off. There were whitecaps Hunk, whitecaps! And look, sprint season just isn't my cup of tea, okay?” 

Hunk looks at him, unimpressed. “You mean you can’t lead a sprint start to save your life?” Lance twists around and glares at Hunk, “Is this what happens when you arent my pair? Blackmail and slander? I thought our bond was stronger than that.” He whines, reaching out to grasp Hunk’s face as if he is a lead in a soap opera. 

“I swear to god Lance if you do not put your hand on your oar I will not hesitate to get Shiro to throw you off the dock.” Pidge growls, not looking up from her coxbox. Keith’s shoulders shake but he has enough composure not to cackle. “Shiro I can hear you smiling!” Lance accuses and Shiro laughs. 

“Enough fooling around, Lance put your hand on that oar and let's get moving.” 

They get away from the dock without much stress, though Lance did jab Keith in the back with his oar handle. “You did that on purpose!” He seeths. Lance shrugs non-committedly. 

“Can you two just back like normal people, please?” Pidge sighs through the headset. 

She leads them through warm up drills by pairs when they get away from the dock. “This isn’t Kindergarten kids, let’s get into the good stuff.” Pidge leans forward, locking her left arm to guide the boat away from shore. “Hunk give me a good one. Bow hold.” With a few more half strokes and holds Pidge gets the boat lined up with the other shells. Allura appears in the launch and takes stock of the boats assembled. “Hunk sit up and put your shoulders back, posture please.” Hunk grumbles but does as he’s told. “This practice will focus on steady rates and technique while you get used to your boats. Throw in a few power tens to get them moving coxes, and everyone needs to really work on constituency and set. Fours off first please. Attention!” 

“Nice and easy here boys, Lance sit up straight!” Pidge says quietly, holding the mic close to her. 

“Row!” 

Pidge is slammed back against the shell as the boat takes off. 

“Glad to see you guys have some horsepower, Keith bring it down and lengthen out. You’re at a 30 let’s sit pretty at a 28 at the highest.” 

“Told you mullet’s a mess in stroke.” 

“Lance if you're talking you’re not pulling hard enough.” 

Keith tries not to growl and pulls a little harder. He stares over Pidge’s head, taking a steadying breath as he glides to the catch. It didn't matter what Lance said, because Pidge was grinning at her cox box and he could feel the power that hummed from every drive that sent the shell slicing through the water. Despite his teasing, Lance was a constant behind him, translating his pace flawlessly to the rest of the boat. Maybe this could work afterall. They inch past the other fours, keeping a steady rhythm. The set is a bit wobbly, but they end up holding their own fairly well. “Well color me impressed boys this isn’t too bad. How’s a ten sound?” 

“Terrible,” Hunk groans from the bow. “Seriously do we have to go this fast? I get it, it’s sprint season and all.. but- phew my sweet recovery time Keith.” Keith rolls his eyes, feeling the bubbling frustration burning like acid against the bottom of his ribs. “Get with the program Hunk, this pace is fine.” Keith bites out after a particularly agressive drive.

Pidge sighs loudly through her headset. “All of you shut up and give me ten.” 

It’s a delightful kind of torture, getting used to a new lineup. It’s an hour into practice when the wind starts. “I hate wind more than erging!” Lance complains and even Keith seems mildly impressed with the statement. “I can’t think of anything worse than erging.” Pidge is ready to snap her headset in half. “I can think of something I hate more than erging…. talking during a peice!” She screeches but Keith only looks betrayed. “That’s not fair Pidge, you don’t know the true pain of land practices.” 

“Keith Kogane if you do not shut up and feather your blade properly I might just reach over and strangle you myself.” 

Lance chokes through a fit of giggles. “And you!” Pidge rounds on him, holding the mic painfully close to her mouth so that her voice crackles in the speakers. “For having such freakishly long limbs I don’t see much reach. Fucking rotate around your riggers lover boy!” 

Shiro, sweating in the bow as the boat lists with the wind, decides that Pidge might be the most terrifying creature on earth. He casts a worried glance up the boat, but he can’t see around the solid back of Hunk in front of him. This wind was not at all helping their set, and despite his best efforts the boat still dropped to port at the catch. He winced at the scrape of blades on the choppy water. His lap was soaked, as was Hunk’s side. 

Lance, despite hating the wind the most, was the least bothered by it. “Keith slow down, you're rushing up to the catch. I want that nice 28 back, bring it down.” Pidge chides, gazing critically at their dragging oars. “You guys need to finish lower if you want to actually set the boat.” 

Lance can see the tension in Keith’s shoulders as Pidge nags. Keith’s wrists are getting tight. He can feel the pressure in his arms, the throbbing tendons that get cramped up under the spasming muscles. He sets his jaw and pulls a little harder, just to focus on the burn of his legs, the ache of his hamstrings. Anything to ignore the budding panic blooming in his stomach. He can’t lose focus now. With each lurch to port Keith’s wrists take more pressure as he forces his oar to feather against the whitecaps that slam against their shell.

“Okay weigh enough!” Pidge sits up and sighs, drawing her raincoat closer around her shoulders. She was as soaked as the rest of them. “That piece was pitiful. We were going great earlier this morning. You guys need to fucking get it together and follow Keith, you can’t balk at a little wind.” 

“It’s kind of impossible to follow someone who doesn’t believe in the recovery!” 

And then Keith is whipping around in his seat to jab a finger at Lance’s chest. His hands are shaking, and really it just makes the anger rolling in his stomach more violent. He doesn't know why that jab is the last straw. Maybe it’s because he’s losing feeling in his fingers. Maybe it’s because there is truth in what Lance says. Maybe it’s because he can’t seem to get past the hate that burns the back of his eyes. Hate for his own shortcomings. His elbow smacks against his oar handle, and the oar flies up off the water. The wind roars past their ears. Pidge grabs the gunnels as the boat rolls violently to starboard and the riggers disappear into the lake. “No no no no no- it’s too cold for this-“ Pidge yelps. “Keith!'' Is all Shiro is able to get out before the shell flips. Pidge is the first to pop up, gasping as she throws her arms over the boat. “God do you idiots know how much a cox box costs?” As the rest of the four frees themselves from their foot stretchers and begin to resurface, Pidge is frantically waving over the launch. “Allura is going to have our asses.” 

Keith is already shaking as much as Pidge in the frigid water. He can’t really tell if it’s the cold or the rage stings along his spine. His face is set in a deep scowl as he leans against the shell. Lance is laughing, running a hand through his dripping hair and treading water with ease. “Oh my god Keith, I can’t believe you flipped the four!” 

“I think it was a team effort Lance.” Shiro adds calmly from the bow as he scans up the boat, though his brow furrows with concern as Keith clings stubbornly to the slick surface of the upturned shell. It’s soon replaced by an amused smile lingers at the corners of his mouth. Hunk is grinning ear to ear, unbothered by their current situation even as Pidge looks increasingly anxious as the Launch gets closer. “I think I like this lineup.” He says, attempting to splash Lance on the opposite side of the boat. Pidge rolls her eyes.


	2. Double Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is waaaaaaay angstier than it needs to be, but what else did you expect? 
> 
> Lance and Lotor get put in a double, things end in blood and a very angry Keith. 
> 
> This is pretty short and not at all sweet- hope you enjoy!

“Lance, Lotor take a double!” Lance groans. “Coach really? With him?” 

Coran pulls at the ends of his impeccable mustache. “It will help with teamwork, don’t think I haven’t noticed this little feud of yours. A divided team is a weak one.” Coran reaches over and puts a hand on Lance’s sagging shoulder. “You don’t have to like it, but you have to learn how to work with one another regardless, now off you pop!” 

He rounds on Keith next, but Lance is still sulking. “Pidge do you want to row a bit today?”

“Hell yes! Fucking put me in a boat Coran you gorgeous man!” Coran isn’t sure weather to scold her so he just shrugs. “Keith, how about the two of you? Lightweight double?” Keith snorts but reaches over to offer Pidge a sneaky low five. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.” 

Lotor seems strangely content with his lot. Keith seems almost as annoyed as Lance, despite being enthusiastic to row with Pidge. “That’s lame man.” He sighs, helping Lance find the good scullying oars buried deep in the back of the boat house. “If that Lotor jerk thinks he can one up me and steal my pair out from under my nose then he’s got another thing coming.” 

Lance laughs, eyeing Keith’s white knuckle grip. “Dude are you seriously upset? It’s fine. It won't be fun, but i'll deal with it. Hell I might just flip us on purpose. It would totally be worth getting wet just to see that pompous bastard have a meltdown over his hair.” Keith cracks a smile at this, but his expression darkens to something more genuine as he shifts the oars to his other hip. He reaches out and clasps a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Just be careful okay?” Lance is a little put off but the tightness of the hand on his shoulder, the seriousness in Keith’s flashing eyes, but he laughs and thumps Keith squarely on the back. “Keith it’s a double, I’m not going off to war. I’m serious, it’s fine.” Keith accepts this with a nod as they trudge towards the dock with the oars. It’s just a double. Lance feels a little unsettled now. He doesn’t let Keith see the tremor of his fingers. 

“At least we got the good shell.” 

Lotor huffs behind Lance, the weight on his shoulder shifting as Lotor readjusts. “I still can’t fathom why you’re stroke.” 

“Lotor it’s a double, I hardly think it matters.” 

“Perhaps.” 

They lapse back into a tense silence and for the first time in a long time, Lance is dreading getting on the water. He has definitely decided on flipping them. It was strange not to have Pidge yelling at him. Lance felt strangely unsure. He could go through all the motions, he’d put boats in the water a thousand times, but doing it on his own time was a forgein concept. 

“Ever been in a double Lance?” Lotor sounds cheeky, smug even. Lance rolls his eyes. “Not really. It’s different.” Lotor hums thoughtfully and the sound is a bit unsettling as they near the dock. “It’s not as heavy as other shells.” He comments more to break the silence than anything. He didn’t appreciate the way Lotor was practically brooding behind him. 

“More unstable too.” And that makes Lance grin. Man it was a great day for a swim. “I’m be careful then.” Lance says. “Yes, that would be wise.” And maybe there is a sinister kick there, but Lance is looking over his shoulder and laughing at the chaos that is Pidge and Keith trying to carry a boat. “Bad day to wear a tanktop Keith!” He calls, but Keith is too busy taking the bulk of the weight to answer with more than an annoyed grunt. Despite his teasing Lance feels a little bad, the gunnels were digging deep into the toned flesh of Keith’s shoulders. It couldn't have felt nice. 

“How about we put this thing in the water.” Lotor seems to know what he’s doing but Lance is not about to be bossed around, Keith would never let him live it down. “Okay, let’s go up and over heads, ready? Up.” He says, trying to be as authoritative as Pidge. He doesn’t quite pull it off. He can almost feel her smiling smugly behind him as she and Keith prepare to put their own boat in the water. 

“And roll to high waist, ready? Roll.” 

And then it’s the flash of the riggers in the early morning sun. The sparkle of the lake. “Lance!” And it’s Pidge’s panicked voice. The pristine white of the shell as it goes crashing down into the dock. It’s the pain that explodes in his face, hot and oppressive. It’s the agony in his arms as they buckle under the weight of the shell. It’s the slick wood of the dock, the hardness against his knees. Lance peers through his shaking fingers, hand clamped tight to his face. The blood is hot and sticky against his skin. He feels sick. Keith is behind him. Pulling him against his chest. Blood drips down through his fingers, staining the dock with ruby beads. 

“Lance, hey Lance, you need to move your hands okay?” 

The black is swelling against the edges of his vision. His jaw throbs, the right side of his face is too hot and screaming at the slightest touch. Gentle hands are grabbing his wrists and he pulls away with as much force as he can muster. Keith is a quiet constant behind him. 

“Let Shiro see, it’s alright.” The rumble of his voice is deep and even but it shakes just enough that Lance knows he’s scared. And then the pressure on his wrists is back and he wants to stay clammed up on the slick dock forever. “Lance please.” 

Painfully, his hand is gingerly removed from his face. The low hanging sun scathes the tender skin. Keith’s breath is hot on his ear as he hisses out a curse. Lance feels a little better as the pain stabilizes. He lets out a breath and leans back on his hands. Keith gives him room. Shiro’s jaw is set. As he carefully turns Lance’s face to the side he keeps shooting glances at something behind Lance’s head. Allura comes racing down the hill with a first aid kit. 

“I think you should head back to the dorm for today Lance, I can email your professors about this.” She says softly as he shields away from the pressure of the gauze. “Im.. okay, just a little shook up.” He wheezes, and it's not very convincing considering he is still trying to squirm away from Allura. 

Keith is an explosion of motion that makes his head spin. Pidge attempts to grab his shoulder but he shoves her away roughly, not a hint of remorse as she stumbles back and rubs her arm with a glare. Shiro is on his feet too, but Keith is already reaching up to grab a fistfull of Lotor’s shirt. 

“I saw you step away from the boat. What just happened there was intentional!” Keith shoves Lotor away in disgust, the veins in his neck popping as his face flushed an angry red. Lotor stumbles back a few steps before his head snaps up and he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s a serious accusation, Kogane. Accidents happen.” Keith’s fists are balled at his side, he’s in a fighting stance, grasping at the last threads of his self-control, muscles twitching beneath his skin. 

“Lance should have been paying better attention..” 

And there it goes. 

Before Shiro can grab him a war bellow erupts from Keith’s chest and he is slamming into Lotor’s torso, shoulder low as he heaves his full weight into the charge. They both go sprawling off the dock and into the lake. Allura sighs heavily. “Pidge, get Lance back up to the boathouse, and find a few people to get these doubles out while we deal with...this.” 

"Preferably before Keith drowns him." Shiro adds with a disapointed shake of his head.

**Author's Note:**

> A crash course on some of the terms that might appear throughout this fic! 
> 
> Shells are the long narrow boats which the rowers race and pratice in
> 
> Set is the balance of the boat, controlled by the rowers and their oar heights
> 
> The seat- rowers sit here, it has little wheels and rolls along the slide
> 
> The slide- tracks in the bottom of the boat which the seat slides on, allows rowers to take a full stroke, makes a whoosy noise sometimes, very nice! 
> 
> Footstretchers- Little shoes nailed/glued to a board, these can be adjusted to compenstate for a rowers height, doing this incorrectly with either lead to uncomfrtable pinching at the catch, or being unable to complete a full stroke
> 
> The riggers are long and triangular? Baiscally they help balance the boat and hold the oars and oar locks!
> 
> Oars and Oar locks- Crew oars are very long, some up to 14 feet! and have a short often square blade. Oar locks are what hold the oar in place, forgeting to close these all the way can be very bad (hmmm ask me how I know that O.o) 
> 
> The rowing stroke (Catch, drive, feather, layback, recovery ect)   
> Rowers start at the catch with their knees close to their chest and arms extended in front- the oar is all the way back and the blade is resting squared in the water (This is where rowers sit at attention)   
> The drive is the main body and power of the stroke, in sync the rowers all slam their kness down and strighten their legs, pulling with the back and bringing the arms back, with elbows at the ribs   
> Layback is a swing of the back where rowers lean back, they pause here for a second and feather the blade. The oar is now at the very front  
> Recovery The rowers slowly (hopefully) bedn their knees and slide forwards back to the catch, the oar is feathered and above the water at this point. The stroke is complete and the process repeats
> 
> Feathering/Squaring the blade- feathering is when the blade is flat and resting above the water, squaring is when the blade is striaght up and down and resting in the water
> 
> Backing- doing the stroke in reverse to move the baot backwards
> 
> The coxswain- often smol (angry) person who sits in front of the rowers (normally) facing the stroke seat. This person steers the boat, directs the rowers, and is responsable for the safety and well-being of the boat. Fun fact smaller coswians might carry bags of birdseed to even out weights in high profile races!
> 
> Coxbox, headset, speakers, coxswian's bag- A coxbox is an electronic device that shows the rate (strokes per minute) of the boat and other important information, this is where the coxswian plugs in their headset and conncets to the boat's speakers. Most boats have speakers which amplify the coxswian voice through their headset, which has a microphone. (Coxing without one or without working speakers sucks, lots of yelling R.I.P voice) A coxswian's bag is a bag that the coxswians carries important things like tools and extra peices for the boat, tape and banages for injuries, sunscreen and lots of other odds and ends. 
> 
> Fours, eights, pairs, seat numbers oh my! 
> 
> Some shells sit four rowers + coxswian, others eight + coxswian, there are pairs (two) coxed and uncoxed, even uncoxed fours. These fics will focus on fours and seat teriminolgy is as follows- 
> 
> Stroke seat/four seat, "front" of the boat faces the coxswian and sets the pace for the rest of the boat to follow (port side)  
> Three seat, right behind four seat, follows four and translates pace to the rest of the boat (Starboard side)  
> Two seat, behind three, conncets bow pair to stern pair in a four (Port side)  
> Bow/one seat, "back" of the boat, normally someone either smaller (its kinda tight back there) and super strong, does a lot of small corrections for the coxswian and set is super important in this seat. 
> 
> Bow pair (Bow/one and two)   
> Stern pair (Stroke/four and three) 
> 
> The launch (motor boat the coach follows the boats in) 
> 
> If anything else needs clarification ask!


End file.
